by Sam Ferguson
He didn’t know where Jahre would be, so he devised many strategies and methods to hunt him down. In the end he settled on none of them, preferring to decide only after arriving in the city and discovering the lay of the land. However, creating multiple strategies was another type of exercise he performed often to keep his mind sharp. There were two things he had learned in his life to be absolutely true. The first was there is no such thing as a perfect plan, so there was always a need for a contingency plan. The second truth was that most plans do not survive the heat of action. Victory goes to the strategist who executes the best plan, with two great plans in reserve, and is still able to think on his feet during battle when all plans prove fatally flawed.
Talon was probably on his three-hundredth scenario by the time he arrived at Medlas. The pink granite wall sparkled in the diminishing sunlight as the golden orb sunk below the forest behind him. Two rounded towers protruded from the wall, each topped with freshly polished brass and copper shingles. A couple of Svetli’Tai Kruks walked along the wall behind the parapets with their long bows slung across their backs. Another pair of Svetli’Tai Kruks stood at the base of the great, golden gate. The door itself was rectangular, reaching well above thirty feet in the gatehouse. An iron portcullis was secured into the ceiling in front of the golden entryway. Talon knew that there was an identical portcullis behind the gate as well, though he could not see it.
One of the elf guards approached. “We are going to close the gate soon. Do you wish to come in for the night?” he asked.
Talon nodded. “I would,” he responded.
“What is your name?” the elf inquired as he eyed Talon lazily. It was obvious to Talon that this was not an interrogation so much as a formality. He could see that this particular Svetli’Tai Kruk’s red tunic strained to contain an exceedingly round belly. He even had a slight double chin. Talon masterfully aborted the mocking smile that tried to force its way onto his face. Still, an overweight elf was almost unheard of. Talon guessed he was likely related to some sort of official and had used his connection to become a Svetli’Tai Kruk.
“My name is Jonathan Geer,” Talon lied.
The elf struggled to pull a parchment from the back of his belt. When he finally managed to wrangle it free a piece from the corner fell to the ground. Talon heard a series of quick tears and rips as the elf hastily pulled the parchment open with his clumsy fingers. “Alright, Jonathan, I will mark your name here in the log. How long will you stay in Medlas?”
Talon had to bite the tip of his tongue to keep from laughing. Surely this had to be a joke. Even most of the drunkards he had worked with in Raimus’ outfit would have put this elf to shame. “I’ll stick around for a day or two,” Talon said tersely.
“Alright, you may proceed,” the elf said after he scribbled on the parchment quickly. Talon started to walk forward but the other Svetli’Tai Kruk jogged up to the two of them, motioning for Talon to remain in place.
Talon sized up the newcomer and recognized immediately that this was a trained, disciplined professional, unlike the blundering, potbellied idiot. He was lean, yet his frame filled his tunic at the shoulders and was loose in the waist. The sleeves covered, but Talon could see the muscles bulge slightly under the fabric as the elf moved. However, it was the elf’s eyes that marked the elf as an experienced professional. There was a hardness in them that only comes with the experience of battle. A couple of minor scars on the elf’s left cheek suggested that perhaps at least one of those battles had been close enough for this elf to know the smell of death.
“Is there a problem?” Talon asked when the elf stopped next to them.
The elf bowed his head slightly to acknowledge Talon and then turned to address the potbellied elf. “You did not ask him his profession,” he said.
The potbellied elf bristled and his face flushed pink. “I know what I am doing,” he shot back. “If you don’t like the way I handle the gate, then perhaps you should take it up with my uncle, Councilman Lolgerion.”
Talon felt himself taking offense for the other Svetli’Tai Kruk, but he remained silent as he watched the exchange. The senior Svetli’Tai Kruk maintained composure, but did not give any ground. “Additionally, you did not check this man for weapons.”
The potbellied elf slapped the other in the chest with the parchment. “I was just about to do that,” he huffed. Then he turned to Talon with a scowl on his face. “Hold your arms out and spread your legs.”
Talon shook his head and untied his long knife from his belt. “This is all I have on me,” he said as he offered it to the potbellied elf.
The elf took the knife and jammed it between his lower back and his belt. “There, happy now?” he said. The lean elf closed his eyes for a moment. Talon admired his resolve and composure, but his fear of the other’s uncle repulsed Talon and ultimately eroded the respect he had for the experienced Svetli’Tai Kruk.
“I will still need to make sure you aren’t concealing any other weapons,” the experienced Svetli’Tai Kruk said.
Talon nodded his approval, untucked his tunic and held his arms out from his body while he stepped to the side with his right leg.
The potbellied guard growled. “My uncle put me in charge of the gatehouse. How dare you presume to embarrass me? Return to the gate.”
Talon was baffled. Had he known his fortune would be this sublime he would not have hidden his other weapons so far away in the forest. He mentally added several scenarios that involved exploiting this arrogant aristocrat for his escape after he was done with Jahre.
The experienced elf stiffened and pursed his mouth, staring at the ground near Talon’s feet with an arched brow.
“I said return to the gate,” the potbellied elf said. “That’s an order.”
“With respect,” the other elf started.
“Shut your mouth,” the potbellied guard said. “You may have more experience than me, but you were put under my command because you decided to roll around in the hay with someone else’s wife.” The experienced elf’s face tightened and the muscles in his jaw flexed while the veins in his neck started to bulge ever so slightly from his thin neck. The potbellied elf continued, “Obviously your judgment is not as keen as you think it is, else you would not have erred and been demoted. Now, return to your post at the gate or I will report your insubordination to the council.”
“As you wish,” the experienced elf replied through clenched teeth. Talon watched him turn on his heels and walk stiffly back to stand against the wall near the gatehouse.
The potbellied guard turned to Talon and shook his head. “Insolent pest,” he said as he rolled the parchment and stuffed it back into his belt. “Sorry you had to see that,” he said. “Enjoy your time in Medlas, Jonathan Geer.”
“I will,” Talon said. “Where do I pick up my knife when I leave?”
The elf bunched his eyebrows together for half a second before a smile crossed his face and he raised a finger in the air. “You can pick it up on your way out, it will be waiting for you inside the gate, in the interior gatehouse. The guard on duty at that time will be able to give it back. Keep in mind we close the gates at sundown.”
Talon nodded and walked by the half-wit. “Thanks,” Talon offered with a forced smile and nod. The idiot guard waved and then went straight for the other guard. Talon couldn’t hear everything as he crossed through the gate, but he heard enough to know that the half-wit was giving the other an ear-chewing that would not soon be forgotten.
Once inside the walls, Talon was overwhelmed by how tall everything was. Many of the buildings rose sixty or seventy feet into the air. Some of them were boxy, square buildings with crisscrossed wooden beams and simple, rectangular windows. Others were grand towers that shot up like great arrows, complete with pointed, conical roofs. There were, of course, shorter buildings as well but even they seemed to dwarf anything he had known before. Arches of inlaid gold, bronze, or precious gems graced each doorway and green and red ivies snaked up the d
elicately woven lattices stretched over many of the alabaster walls. Flowerpots with pink and blue irises hung from window sills. Never had Talon imagined a place where so much work would go into a city’s appearance, then again he was human, and had not the time to spend with such hobbies as an elf had. Not yet anyway.
The elves on the street were dressed in great, flowing robes that granted them an ethereal quality as they walked around him. Most of them held their heads high, pretending not to notice him as he filtered through the throngs in the main streets. It was just as well, he figured. He didn’t need anyone taking especial notice of him.
He veered off to find an alleyway, but was surprised to find none. At least, nothing that looked like an alley he was used too. The roads between the houses and other buildings were just as neatly kept as the main roads through Medlas. There was no sign of filth or garbage. Every road was paved with tight fitting cobblestones. The only difference he noticed was that the roads he would have expected to be alleyways were about half as wide as the main streets.
He wasn’t sure if the city’s immaculate condition was a product of wealth or out of the elves of Medlas’ famed constant pursuit of perfection, but either way it was so pristine that Talon started to feel uncomfortable. He gave his boots a quick once-over shine on the back of his trousers and pushed on.
Without anything more to go on than a hunch that Jahre was here based on that letter he had found at the Scholars Tower, he decided to find an inn. The first one he came too was obviously out of his budget for the time he was here. The elves coming and going through the entrance looked as though they would put most of Shausmat’s nobility to shame if they compared wardrobes. The second inn was the same as the first, as was the next. As he moved through the city he kept one eye to the streets, watching the people as they milled about.
The shops and storefronts were closing down for the night as the last of the sunlight winked out beyond Medlas’ walls. The sun’s dying rays glinted off the rooftops as the people below quickened their pace to get home for the night. Talon sighed and leaned against a post for a few moments as he considered which direction to go.
A strange click-clack, click-clack came from his left. He turned his head to see a young elf walking upon stilts, carrying a rod that ended in a “U” shape in one hand and a curious bronze device in his other hand. The stilt-walker made his way to a pole much like the one Talon was leaning against and used his rod to slide a metal panel out from the glass lamp. Then the elf did something with the bronze device that Talon couldn’t quite see. He heard a faint click and a flame emerged from the narrow end of the bronze device. The elf slid the long arm of the device into the open panel and then used his rod like a key in some part of the base of the lamp that Talon couldn’t see. A moment later a bright yellow flame appeared and the elf closed the panel.
The stilt-walker then made his way toward the lamp Talon leaned against. Talon pushed off of the lamp and watched as the elf repeated the process. This time he could see much clearer. The bronze device had a round belly which the elf held in his hand. A push-button on top struck something inside the device that caused the flame to shoot out the end of the arm. When the elf inserted the rod into the base of the lamp Talon heard a faint hiss rising through the pole itself.
“First time seeing a gas lamp?” the elf asked.
Talon nodded. He had only ever seen kerosene lamps before that were lit and then hung upon metal hooks. “It’s marvelous,” Talon said. The elf smiled knowingly and started on his way for the next pole. “Tell me,” Talon called out. “How does the gas come into the pole?”
“Ah,” the elf smiled and pointed his rod at the street. “I can’t go into the details, as it is a science that takes years to master,” he began. “But, suffice it to say that the dwarves taught us how to harness this gas from beneath the ground. We have a great central station which sends gas to all of the lamps in Medlas. There are even smaller gas lamps in some of the houses.”
“Really?” Talon asked. “So the gas runs under the streets, in the sewers?”
The elf nodded. “The gas is contained in copper pipes. The house lamps are much smaller, of course and they run on a separate network of smaller pipes, for safety reasons.”
“Fascinating,” Talon remarked. “Is it dangerous to operate that kind of network?”
“We have some safety measures, of course. After all, we have been using gas lamps for our streets for almost two centuries now. We have only had one minor accident when someone broke the safety valve for a house lamp. An apprentice had used the wrong fitting for the pipe and then the owner of the house struck the valve with something that knocked it loose and it created a leak. It made him awfully sick, breathing in the gas, but there was no fire and since then no major accidents have occurred.” The elf nodded and turned away. “The system is very complex with all sorts of valves and failsafe measures. I don’t expect you to understand, of course, but it is part of what makes Medlas great. We have many things in our city that humans have never seen.” The elf went on and on as he stilted away, but Talon was no longer listening. He flicked the side of the metal lamp post with his middle finger and grinned. The flame above danced ever so slightly in response.
“This is going to be fun,” he said to himself.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Kai entered Honan’s tavern and walked up to the barkeep, nodding to the bouncer he saw in the far corner. The bouncer, standing with his arms folded across his chest only slightly returned the greeting, while keeping his attention focused on a table on his side of the tavern with a single man sitting at a table. Kai glanced at the man and continued to the barkeep.
“Hello Raife,” Kai said.
The barkeep smiled and finished wiping down a mug before filling it from the tap. “Thanks for coming so quickly,” Raife said.
Kai smiled back. “Thank you for alerting me. Has he given you his name?”
Raife shook his head. “No.” He slid the mug over to Kai. “On the house,” Raife said with a nod to the mug.
“Much appreciated,” Kai replied.
“You are going to end this, right?” Raife asked in a whisper.
Kai took a sip from the mug and smacked his lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep my word.”
“That’s good enough for me,” Raife said. Then he slung a towel over his shoulder and ambled over to other customers at the bar to refill their mugs. Kai waited and took a few more sips while Raife tended to the others. When Raife returned, Kai pushed the empty mug forward.
“Anything I should know?” Kai asked.
“He wouldn’t tell me much,” Raife said with a shrug. “Just that he had some merchandise from Kobhir that he desperately needed to get to the right people here in Blundfish. Said they had some trouble in Kobhir with the law and that their group took a beating in getting this particular shipment.”
“He didn’t say what the shipment was?”
Raife shook his head. “I assume he was talking about what you had asked me to look out for. That’s why I sent for you and had him wait here. Haven’t seen anyone else with him, but I have a couple of guys ready in case things get out of hand.”
“No need for that,” Kai replied. “I am sure I can handle it.”
“Indeed,” Raife said with a chuckle.
“Thanks again,” Kai said, pointing to the empty mug. “I suppose it’s time to go see what the snake knows.” Kai sauntered over to the stranger’s table. The man had his back to the corner, and was watching Kai warily with icy, blue eyes set under a head of short, dark hair. Wide shoulders supported the man’s brown tunic and large, muscular arms protruded from the short sleeves. Kai also spotted the end of a sword scabbard sticking out from under the table and realized the man had his sword laying across his lap for easy access.
Kai pulled out a chair opposite from the stranger, turned it around and sat down resting his arms over the back of the chair. This way he wouldn’t unsettle the stranger by keeping a hand near his own s
word, yet he could easily turn the chair into a club if he needed a weapon in quick order.
“I hear you have merchandise that may we may be interested in, is that correct?” Kai asked.
The stranger nodded slowly. “I have the latest shipment from Kobhir.”
“You will have to be more specific,” Kai urged.
The stranger leaned forward. “Forgive me, but our group took a major hit in Kobhir getting this shipment for you. In order to verify that you are the right contact, I will need you to tell me what you were expecting.”
Kai forced a chuckle. “Why, we were expecting women, of course.”
The stranger relaxed a bit and nodded. “We have two. I understand this particular shipment was taken away from our associates in Rasselin, but we recovered it.”
Kai tensed up. His heart accelerated and his blood grew hot. He pressed his big toe into the ground, trying to maintain his composure. “A red-head and a sable-haired woman?”
The stranger nodded. “I need you to take me to your boss,” the stranger said.
“Where are the women?” Kai asked.
“They are safe,” the stranger said quickly. “However, I have news about Galion. I must deliver this news to your boss in person.”
Kai tapped his heel on the ground now. A good portion of him wanted to rip the stranger’s head from his neck and be done with it, but the rational part of him knew that he needed the man alive. If Kai’s guess was true and the stranger had managed to recapture his sister and Jenedina, then he would have to control himself, for now. “I need to know where the shipment is,” Kai said sternly.
The stranger shook his head. “Many of our men died for this order, I need to see your boss and tell him about Galion, or else my men will dispose of the merchandise and we will cut off our working relationship.”
Kai stood and tossed the chair out of his way as his right hand went down for his sword. “I could kill you here and now,” he threatened.
